For sale, cheap

Anyone want a Plan-B emergency contraceptive? This time only – a special discount offer! Half off the original price! Hell, we’re giving ’em away! Yours for twenty five bucks! Unopened, never been used!

Yeah, I was dumped. By the time the sex-thing becomes a possibility again for me, I’m sure the pill will have expired. Why let it go to waste?

Actually, I’m sure it’s illegal for me to re-sell it, give it away, send it through the mail, or even think about passing it along. But something about how pukey, sobbing, whining and sad I feel made me figure I’d give it a try. Happy August, all. . .

This entry was posted in Drugs, R.I.P., Womenz and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to For sale, cheap

  1. k- says:

    This makes me sad.

  2. Alex says:

    I ditto what K said. You know, instead of trying to sell your Plan B…go listen to that Los Aterciopelados song you put on Super-Electric for me…. Luz Azul. That song cheers me up no matter what. I hope it works for you. Hugs!

  3. janet5 says:

    Thanks Alex, thanks k-. Don’t feel sad – I’m already sad enough for all of us. And confused. And the language he used in his dumping was so ambiguous it made me even more confused (he needs to “think things over”). But apparently he still wants to be “friends”. Oooooooh – the kiss of death.

    I think that Aterciopelados song would be much better than the Scottish trad music I was listening to (e.g. she loves him and begs him not to leave him; he eventually stabs her in the heart and leaves her body in the bank of red roses. . .). I’d much rather hear that la vida es color de rosa!

  4. janet5 says:

    By the way, having constructed a relationship intensity-frequency-duration matrix and inserted data from my own history for the value of each variable, I calculate that I will actually have my first meaningful year-long relationship when I am approximately one hundred twenty-six years old, give or take a few months to account for random error.

    And, I’m sitting here in my underwear, eating a bag of Doritos.

    • k- says:

      “And, I’m sitting here in my underwear, eating a bag of Doritos.”

      I know I’m not the only one around here who finds that hawt.

      • janet5 says:

        The underwear, I hope, and not the Doritos (although I dunno – smudgy orange fingerprints and white skin — oooohhhh). Cheetos are better for that, actually.

  5. Alex says:

    If you’re gonna sit in your underwear and eat Doritos then you’re gonna need some music to accompany it. Send me your address, I’m sending you a mix.

  6. steve says:

    I want a mix too.

    • Alex says:

      Email me addresses already people. Also, I think I probably just got dumped as well. You know, it’s one of those I’m not going to talk to you for 6 days, and then when I see you in your car as I am walking across a crosswalk I will give you a death glare that makes you feel guilty for something you have not done. Because, you know, that’s how dumping goes nowadays. I’d rather have had him puke on me and cry. I don’t even know if I’m fucking dumped or not, I want to hear it, not just assume by current treatment. Fuck this shit. I’m going to sit in my underwear and cry and watch The Princess Bride or West Side Story or some depressing Mexican movie. Definitely the depressing Mexican movie. I hope you all have had a better week than me. Hugs and kisses.

      • janet5 says:

        I’m sorry, Alex! It’s hard to be dumped if there is no acknowledgment that you have actually been dumped. It’s worse when the other person is doing the sullen silent treatment thing, and then you have to sit around wondering WTF is happening.

        I recommend watching “Fight Club.” For some reason, it made me feel better. I will eat Cheetos on your behalf (although they do intensify the pukey feelings, oddly).

      • k- says:

        Give me his address. I’m driving across the country right now to kick his ass.

      • Alex says:

        He’s not worth it.
        So update I guess? I went over to his place Sunday Afternoon to drop off some stuff (a record, a scarf, a shirt, blah blah blah, oh and a letter I wrote in a slightly tipsy stupor the night before/early morning). I texted him about an hour before I actually went to let him know I was going since he refused to answer any of my calls, and surprise, he was actually there. It’s not a long story, I showed up with a box of stuff, one of his roommates was there and looked seriously distraught at the sight of me with a box of stuff (we all got along really well and I’m going to miss those guys) . Anyway, his reasoning for ignoring me and ambiguously dumping was “I didn’t think it was a good idea anymore.” Which you know, makes sense since he’ll be a few thousand miles away in September. His way of letting me know (or not letting me know) that he came to this realization however, did not make much sense. OBVIOUSLY. He looked like shit and really sad. Which made me feel good. But also really sad. So I just threw the letter at him, told him to read it. Kissed him, then left. I felt pretty awesome showing up and doing all that, but you know, there’s still a random icky feeling even though I haven’t even eaten any Cheetos. Love Stinks.

  7. janet5 says:

    You’re right. I have the totally wrong perspective on this. Although I should point out that the “frequency” variable in my 3-D Matrix of Love is, like, once every forty-two years, or something. So I don’t hold out much hope for unexpected anything.

    Note: boring sex is better than no sex.

  8. Great Southern Steve says:

    yeah I sent my address already.

    Also: I watched Princess Bride with the kids lately. They loved it.

    BTW: I pretty much fail to understand how come you two aren’t so beset by suitors that you need to carry swords to fend them off.

    I picture you both in short jackets, old-fashioned leotards and thigh boots, carrying rapier swords as you press through the throng of leering men.

    “Get back! I rejected your advances yesterday! I find you contemptible!” (Stab, thrust, stab. Another dead suitor.)

    Just me I guess.

    • Alex says:

      YAY! I will send you a mix soon, I promise. Also, I’m glad your kids love the Princess Bride, if you can, get a copy of the book and read it to them it is like 325832532 times more awesome!

      Also, well, usually boys/men don’t have guts to speak to me and when they FINALLY do, they don’t really act upon anything which is lame and boring because then I always have to initiate some sort of date and you know sometimes it’s nice when someone else goes through all the effort. It’s probably the imaginary rapier that keeps them away. OR the leotard. Either way, this has become about my love life too much. Someone post something quick.

      • k- says:

        Good way to confront the ballsack. You rock. Plus, you could send me a mix as well. Damnit.

        Also, guys are dumb. Especially college-age guys.

      • alex says:

        Yo K, forget what I said in that email that one time. He’s an asshole. He’s already dating somebody else and probably was while we were dating. Life is totally awesome, I don’t understand why people ever want to kill themselves.

  9. Alex says:

    THANKS! I was (and still am) pretty pleased with myself for doing that. Ok! Send me your address, Janet I still need yours, lady.

  10. Steevo says:

    I was make a typical (for me) snarkastic comment…unfortunately, the time is now past.

    also, I like doritos. Kind of…cheetos, however, if you’re going to be pawing someone after eating them, make sure you avoid the “flamin hot” variety. actually, avoid eating “flamin hot” anything if you plan on pawing someone else (or yourself as the case may be).

    Janet, Alex, Kevin, etc

    You’re awesome.

  11. janet5 says:

    Thanks, Steevo. But I don’t feel very awesome. More Doritos tonight, actually. Sort of sad since it has been three weeks since the Big Dumping. I went to lunch with himself yesterday and we wound up taking a walk in the local cemetery. It’s a nice cemetery – full of monuments to local “captains of industry” (whose graves were strategically positioned to have a perfect view of the belching coke furnaces they had owned). I’m still confused, though. He was very sweet, but he said something that made it sound like he’s already seeing someone else (and started seeing her before he dumped me). And all I could think about was how he’ll take someone else out for a drink and not me; and how I won’t wake up next to him on a chilly autumn morning and then drink coffee with him all morning; and how, nonetheless, he keeps NOT behaving like someone who wants to dump me and have it over with.

    “I picture you both in short jackets, old-fashioned leotards and thigh boots, carrying rapier swords as you press through the throng of leering men.

    “Get back! I rejected your advances yesterday! I find you contemptible!” (Stab, thrust, stab. Another dead suitor.)”

    No throngs here, Steve. No suitors. And I’m too shy to wield a rapier (or wear thigh boots). And I don’t even really find him contemptible. I’m just baffled and sad. So I’ll just hang out here with another bag of Doritos. All of this makes me feel very, very unpunk.

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